


Gullibility

by AirgiodSLV



Category: The Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-07-05
Updated: 2005-07-05
Packaged: 2019-07-20 11:33:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16136381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AirgiodSLV/pseuds/AirgiodSLV
Summary: “It’s a tradition,” Dom assures Elijah over his loud protests. “English panto. Haven’t you heard us talking about it?”





	Gullibility

**Author's Note:**

> Because it simply had to be done. Thanks to Brenna for the beta.

“It’s a tradition,” Dom assures Elijah over his loud protests. “English panto. Haven’t you heard us talking about it?”

“Yes, but…” Elijah frowns, trying to remember the details, losing ground as two hobbits and an Elf – all British and no help – hustle him into the empty makeup trailer. “Isn’t that at Christmas?”

“Not always,” Billy says soothingly. “Not this one.”

Somehow, Elijah doesn’t find that as reassuring as he otherwise might. “So why aren’t you getting dressed?” he asks suspiciously, certain that in some way, he’s going to come out on the wrong side of this proposition. He’s more than half-convinced there will be film and blackmail involved.

Billy clucks his tongue and starts opening makeup cases, examining the contents and making choices. Elijah eyes items that he sees every morning with a newly-acquired sense of deep mistrust.

“We will,” Orlando assures him, helping Dom with what looks like brush selection. “But we’ve all been doing this for years. We could probably do it in our sleep. So we’re helping you first.”

Billy smears Elijah with foundation, blending it with his skin tone. Elijah takes a brief moment to appreciate Billy’s hitherto unknown skills in this area, before Billy brushes his eyes closed with gentle fingertips and rubs foundation over his eyelids.

Dom chuckles somewhere near Elijah’s ear, and when Elijah opens his eyes, Dom reaches up to wipe away a smudge at the corner of Elijah’s eye. “It’s all you,” he promises, low and cocky, all-over Dom. “You’ll be the beauty queen of Leenane by the time we’re through with you.”

Billy shoos Dom aside, rubs something onto his fingertips and brushes Elijah’s eyes closed again before applying it to his trembling eyelids. “I’m kind of guessing on the colours, here,” he confesses softly, the accent slurring his words as he leans in close to Elijah’s face, peering at his handiwork. “But this’ll do. What d’ya think?”

He moves out of the way and spins Elijah’s chair around to face the mirrors, beaming in the background. It’s a work in progress still, obviously, but Elijah’s eyes stand out from the rest of his face, charcoal grey and dusk-plum turning his irises to dark blue-violet.

“I feel weird,” Elijah whispers, staring into his own eyes, made heavy and unfamiliar by the glimmer of shadow.

“You look beautiful,” Billy assures him, snapping open a fresh tube of paint. “Now open your eyes wide and look up.”

Elijah complies, flinching a little against the close wiry brush of mascara, but steadying when Billy places his hand lightly under Elijah’s jaw to keep him from moving. “Lovely,” Billy promises, and moves back so that Elijah can see, and blink at the thickness of ebony lashes.

“Liner next,” Billy announces, and Elijah tilts his head to one side.

“Where did Orlando and Dom go?” he asks, trying to look past Billy into the rest of the room.

“Wardrobe,” Billy says shortly, grasping Elijah’s chin to redirect his attention. “Tilt your head back.”

“Wardrobe?” Elijah echoes, which only makes Billy shush him and start again, holding a pencil too close to Elijah’s eyes for his comfort. The eye-tracing takes long enough to make him sweat, and he hopes that Billy’s makeup stands the test of Elijah’s own anxiety over having pointy objects close to his eyes. Contact lenses he can handle, but sharpened pencils? No.

“Rouge!” Billy announces finally, drawing back and capping the instrument of torture, and Elijah exhales a sigh of relief.

“What else is there?” he asks, because although he’s been through this process many times before in his life, he’s never been through it with all of the extra trimmings that women seem to use. And he has enough makeup on his face already to make him wonder at just how exactly they manage to do it every day.

“Just lipstick,” Billy replies absently as he dabs Elijah’s cheeks, eyeing him critically. He glances down then, and shakes his head. “Shirt off,” he orders, moving the assortment of pots and paints out of the way. “I don’t want it to smear.”

Elijah gets his shirt off, with a minor amount of helpful fuss from Billy, and by the time he’s emerged from the collar, Dom and Orlando have tumbled back into the room and are watching them with ill-concealed excitement.

“Might as well get your trousers off, too,” Dom comments, gesturing with a shopping bag. Orlando comes around to drape himself over the chair next to Elijah’s, studying him with interest.

“Why?” Elijah asks, peering warily at the hanger and garment bag dangling from Orlando’s forefinger.

“Because _this_ ,” Orlando says casually, pulling up the garment bag to display his selection, “is the quintessential little black dress. Every girl should have one. And besides,” he adds with a hint of fond pride. “It was on sale.”

“Discount rack,” Dom affirms, helping Orlando to get the rest of the plastic off while Billy hums approval. “Here you are, give it a go. Let’s see how it looks.”

Elijah stares, grumbles, and folds his arms defiantly over his chest, but he did agree to this, after all, and he’s actually beginning to be intrigued by the whole idea. Not that he’d ever admit that, of course, but it is a new experience. And if the Brits do it all the time, why can’t he?

“Not over the head!” Billy yelps, and slaps Orlando’s hands away where he’s trying to help Elijah into the dress. “Undo the zipper and step into it, don’t you know anything? Elijah, trousers off. Honestly, it’s like the three of you have never been around girls before.”

The dress is a sheath, short and clingy, but loose enough to hide the fact that Elijah is lacking the obvious feminine curves. He studies himself in it, turning to the side and then again to face the mirror, getting used to the idea. It’s not bad, actually. A little strange, but the material feels nice against his skin. Soft.

His reverie lasts until Dom steps up next to him and holds up a pair of new black lace panties, sales tag still attached. Dom is grinning madly, and Elijah shakes his head, eyes widening in horror.

“No,” he says immediately. “No women’s underwear. No one will see it!”

“Elijah,” Orlando points out in a reasonable tone of voice. “You can’t wear boxers, they’ll make the skirt hang funny.”

“And you can’t go without, either,” Dom chimes in. “Because someone might look up and see.”

Elijah looks to Billy for help, but Billy just shrugs. “Kilt’s different, stiffer material. Just be glad they’re not trying to put you in silk stockings.”

“Oh, that’s next,” Orlando reports gleefully.

Elijah stifles a groan and makes a grab for the panties. “Give me those.”

Dom laughs, and Elijah glares, face flaming as he tries to pull together what’s left of his dignity, in spaghetti straps with a scrap of lace bikini in his hand. “Turn around, please?” he demands, waving the panties. “I’m not doing this with you lot watching.”

Orlando holds his hands up and turns around, laughing, and Dom gives him a mock-leer before turning as well. Billy is already facing the other direction, busy examining lipstick tubes and sorting through rows of mysterious little bottles. Elijah grits his teeth, pulls off his boxers, and slides the panties up under the skirt, tucking his cock inside the lace.

“Okay,” he says a moment later, grimacing at the strangeness of such insufficient coverage over his privates. “You can turn around now.”

“You did shave, right?” Dom asks, fussing with a sealed package. “We told you that you had to.”

Elijah rolls his eyes, trying to keep from betraying how unexpectedly good the lace feels against his cock when he moves. “I thought I was going barefoot.”

“Not a chance, princess,” Orlando replies, turning Elijah around to smooth and untwist his dress straps. “We’re going all out for you.”

“After all,” Dom adds with a grin, stockings now triumphantly in hand, “it is your first time.”

Elijah bravely fights a blush, determined not to let them embarrass him. “Give,” he orders, holding out a hand for the stockings, eyebrows drawing together in dismay when he sees the complicated elastic tangle of garter belts and ribbons.

“Sit down, I’ll do it,” Orlando insists soothingly, plunking Elijah back down in the chair. “This is my favorite part, anyway. Billy, what are you doing with his hair?”

“Wig?” Dom asks curiously, plucking a bottle from the table and examining it briefly before giving it a vigorous shake.

Billy shakes his head. “He’s got enough to work with, and girls wear their hair short these days. See what you can find in that bin by way of clips, would you?”

Dom picks a handful of shiny barrettes out of the case while Billy slicks his hands up with styling gel and works it into Elijah’s hair, smoothing and refining. “See?” he says proudly. “This will work just fine.”

“Exactly what sort of look are we going for here?” Elijah asks as Billy clips his hair back with the barrettes, lower lip caught between his teeth as he frowns in concentration.

“Burgeoning starlet,” Dom says decisively, examining Elijah’s nails critically and resting Elijah’s hand on his own knee, unscrewing the cap off the bottle he’d just been shaking. “Although Christ, look at you, no one would believe you’re older than fifteen.”

“I’m eighteen,” Elijah corrects, just to set the record straight. But Dom’s right, he thinks as he looks into the mirror. He does look young.

He jumps when Dom touches a brush to his thumbnail, smoothing on bright polish, but is fervently glad that the cold sensation gives him something to focus on a moment later, because Orlando’s hands are rolling sheer silk over his leg, and that’s distracting enough that he doesn’t want to really think about it for long.

“One more thing,” Billy says quietly, regaining Elijah’s attention from the way Dom’s tongue pokes out from between his teeth as he works. Elijah blinks, and Billy holds up a metal tube that looks something like a crayon. “Lipstick. Open your mouth for me, make an ‘O’ and hold still.”

Elijah does as he’s told, although he does squeak and jump a bit when Orlando snaps the elastic circlet over his upper thigh. “Hush,” Billy warns, and his face is a mask of concentration again as he rubs the colour onto Elijah’s lips, smearing him with it, making his lips feel swollen and thick.

“There you go,” Billy says with a little sigh of satisfaction. “Absolutely ravishing. Close your eyes and hold your breath for a second.”

Elijah does so, although not without reservations, and a moment later he feels a light dusting of powder settle over his face, and a gentle gusting of air to accompany it. “Open up,” Billy says finally, once the breeze has stopped. “Take a look.”

He moves out of the way, and Elijah blinks at himself in the mirror, awestruck. He’s beautiful. He’s never been beautiful before.

“What do you think?” Billy asks, his face soon joined by Orlando’s in the mirror, and Dom’s a minute later. “Do you like it?”

“I’m beautiful,” Elijah murmurs in amazement, reaching out towards his reflection, fingers stopping to hover just above the surface of the glass. He blinks, suspicion resurfacing as he looks in the mirror at the three pleased and responsible parties behind him. “Is this really for a pantomime?”

“Oh, Elijah,” Dom sighs, wiggling his fingers and beaming. “You’re so gullible.”

“But pretty,” Billy chimes in with a grin. “He is pretty.”

“And sexy,” Orlando adds, leaning on the back of the makeup chair. “Don’t forget that.”

“Shut up,” Elijah says, smiling slightly as he turns back to his reflection in the mirror. “I’m beautiful.”


End file.
